


A Testament to His Suffering

by KumaraDosha



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Accidental wetting, Desperation, Gen, Omorashi, Urine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-25
Updated: 2012-05-25
Packaged: 2017-11-06 00:44:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/412843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KumaraDosha/pseuds/KumaraDosha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dave has to pee in the middle of one of his favorite TV shows. He thinks he can hold it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Testament to His Suffering

A typical summertime Saturday afternoon. Dave sat slouched on the on the couch in front of the TV, a generous supply of apple juice on hand to quench his every thirst and keep him satisfied. He wore a plain red t-shirt and his comfy silk shorts of the same color; anything more would have been ridiculous in this heat. His favorite TV lineup was about to come on, several good shows in a row, so he was in this for the long haul.

Except he hadn’t anticipated all that fluid he was drinking would go through him that fast. It was during the second episode that he felt the first twinges of discomfort. It was minor, nothing he couldn’t handle, so he ignored it. It wasn’t long before he found himself fidgeting a little. Just an occasional jiggle of the leg to keep his mind off it. He took another sip of juice.

Soon, he had both legs twitching. The urge was consistently in the back of his mind now, but he wouldn’t miss his shows over it. He could probably slip into the bathroom between episodes. He shifted his position, beginning to rock his hips ever so slightly. Fortunately, Bro was out, so Dave didn’t have to worry about being too noticeable. Still, he wasn’t about to do anything embarrassingly uncool. Besides, there were only a few minutes left in the show, he told himself.

Ironically, that was about the time Bro came through the front door. Dave stilled completely, feeling his bladder tingle in protest. It was only a few moments, though, as Bro strode past him, and Dave heard a door close. Releasing a breath, he relaxed a little. But the sense of relief didn’t last long.

His legs swayed back and forth in a rhythm to keep him from getting too antsy, sometimes having to speed up if a wave of urgency hit. Eventually, his legs came in to rub together. He leaned back to take some pressure off his now-aching bladder. His abdomen felt like an overfilled balloon, he noticed, as he gave it a few gentle strokes in an attempt to calm it down. He pressed down a little just to test...and had to squeeze his legs together quickly in a swell of need. This was getting pretty bad. His legs bounced and rubbed together, trying to find different positions...and squeezed hard again when his desperation spiked.

Missing the last minute or so of the show wouldn’t be too bad, he decided. He hadn’t even been able to concentrate on it for a while now. He’d rather just go. Gingerly, he shifted to stand, feeling his bladder slosh uncomfortably, and made his way to the bathroom. ...The bathroom which Bro had apparently entered and locked to take a shower. Dave felt his gut sink in realization. Bro’s showers always took forever.

With no other choice, he bit his lip and made his way back to the couch, lying partially sideways so he could lean himself a bit more heavily against one thigh. He rocked against his leg, one hand slipping down to hold himself, just for a few seconds when he felt particularly unsteady. He tried to quash his worry. Dave Strider was not going to wet his pants for no good reason. He could hold it in. He was not about to piss himself. He kept telling himself this, almost like a mantra. Because losing his cool just made it worse. He couldn’t stop moving.

He shifted again, his hand shooting suddenly between his legs to massage at his crotch, and he let out a tense breath. Once he managed to take his hand away, his hips rocked at the air—anything to keep his muscles steady, as he felt the pee pressing hard to escape. He was almost coming off the couch in his desperation, his butt hardly even in his seat anymore, while his feet planted on the floor, legs helping him rock his hips in midair. He knew he must look like a retard, but he couldn’t care anymore—whatever he had to do to keep himself dry. His hand ran up and down his leg a few times, clenching when he strained, a quiet groan escaping his throat. Come on, Bro...

This wasn’t working. Dave brought his legs up to kneel sideways on the couch, legs spread so he could hold himself firmly. He turned his head and kept an eye on the bathroom door, rocking into both hands. The second Bro got out, he was going for it. He couldn’t believe he was having to resort to this. Squirming into weird positions and tensing until another urge passed...rocking harder, biting his lip. He felt like he was so close to...

He hissed suddenly, darting up to wait by the door, unable to sit any longer. This was bad, an emergency; he hadn’t had to go like this in a long time, and...well, it was an emergency then, too. He crossed his legs one way and then the other, one hand pressing against himself at all times, but it still wasn’t cutting it. The muffled sound of the water was killing him; plus it meant Bro still wasn’t done. He tried marching in place, unable to keep his legs still. His breath came out in stilted panting, gasping quietly at the pressure that forced him to hunch over a little. He leaned his head against the wall, one hand gripping himself, his thighs clamped together, while his leg jiggled frantically.

His muscles were fatigued, worn out from constantly holding back the flood. He felt himself start to quiver—froze and held his breath as he felt a wave of urine traveling down his urethra...barely held back by sheer force of will. Rolling, he turned his back to the wall and lay back against it, both hands massaging his member rapidly, trying to assuage the overwhelming ache. His face was turned to the ceiling, pleading. Please just let Bro finish now, please... He couldn’t hold it...

The water didn’t stop. Dave moaned as he felt another wave hit him...his quivering muscles faltering, and a few drops leaked from the tip of his penis, absorbing into his shorts. He gave an audible start, massaging himself heavily and feeling the faint spot of dampness. His eyes widened in frenzy. It was coming out; it was coming now; he had to go NOW; had to go somewhere. Find something... He dashed into the kitchen; he had to find something; his hand squeezed and rubbed himself; everything was full of puppets or swords; what could he use... ...He leapt to the refrigerator, flinging the door open and knocking things out of the way.

He found a jug of milk, nearly full. Grabbed it, ran over to the sink and started emptying it. He danced in place, unable to wait long enough, his hands occupied and unable to hold himself, and he panted harshly as the gushing sound of the milk going down the drain caused another spasm from his bladder. A hard, quick spurt escaped down one side of his shorts, partially missing the material altogether to dribble down his leg. He moaned continually, his hands shaking heavily, and he yanked the jug away from the sink, still half full. Frantically, he reached for his penis through the bottom of the leg of his shorts. The thought of imminent relief caused another trickle, staining the hem at his leg and splashing onto the linoleum floor before he could bring the jug in place.

With the opening at his tip, he finally...let go. A strong jet shot out and hit the inside of the plastic loudly, his flow hissing as urine mixed with milk. ...Though the noise wasn’t quite as loud as Dave’s satisfied sigh, the relief almost orgasmic. Knees weak, he leaned against the counter, just breathing deep, catching his breath as he emptied himself.

Once he was finished, he pulled the jug away and held it up to his gaze. Nasty. Through the clear plastic, yellow mixed with white in a way that was just...no. ...Though... Dave’s eyes narrowed behind his shades. He strode over and placed the jug back in the refrigerator, exactly in place. If Bro were attentive (and that probably went without saying) he would notice something was off just by looking at it. But still, Dave left it there in revenge, a testament to his suffering.

...Yeah. He was in pretty bad shape. Shorts were definitely wet, he realized, an embarrassed blush creeping onto his face. And there was...on the floor. He would have to find a towel to clean up, needed to change pants before Bro got out...

And then maybe take a shower.


End file.
